.
.
      To one who has been long in city pent

       To one who has been long in city pent,
            'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
            And open face of heaven, - to breathe a prayer
       Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
       Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,
            Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
            Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
       And gentle tale of love and languishment?
       Returning home at evening, with an ear

            Catching the notes of Philomel, - an eye
       Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,
            He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
       E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
            That falls through the clear ether silently. 

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